


When We're In The Darkness

by ErikaWilliams



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Doesn't Want Feelings, Crowley Wants Feelings, Denial of Feelings, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Blitz, The One Where Crowley Gets a Handjob in the Bentley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 02:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19219516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErikaWilliams/pseuds/ErikaWilliams
Summary: Aziraphale comes up with a very human way to thank Crowley for saving his books.





	When We're In The Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> This was my attempt to reconcile my monkey brain's insistence that Crowley got laid after the bombing of the church with the "You go too fast for me, Crowley."

The bag of books rested on Aziraphale’s lap as he sat in the passenger seat of Crowley’s Bentley and watched the scenery whir past them. He had one hand still curled protectively around the bag’s handle, trying to process the events of the past fifteen minutes or so. He was currently in Crowley’s new car, getting a lift back to his bookshop with his precious books in tow. Books that were only in one piece because Crowley had the foresight to save them for him. It was all a bit difficult to believe, but here he was, and here the books were. He had peeked in the bag when he had first settled into the car, just to be sure. They didn’t even look in the slightest bit singed or anything.

 

“You look a bit dazed,” Crowley told him as he navigated the streets of London. Crowley really should be paying attention to the road instead of him. Come to think about it, Crowley did spend an inordinate amount of time looking at him when he was sure there were other things that were far more interesting. “Are you sure you didn’t get hit by a piece of the ceiling or something?”

 

“I’m fine,” he said, staring back out the window. It was strange how things seemed to go by so fast. One day he was just meeting some one on top of a wall for the first time and the next Crowley was making such a touching gesture that he needed time to process it. He just needed to find some way to thank Crowley. A simple verbal acknowledgment would not nearly be enough to convey the magnitude of how grateful he was. Besides, he had already tried that and Crowley had not been very receptive.

 

“Is it the car?” Crowley asked, glancing over at him and nearly driving off the road in the process. Not the car so much as the one driving it. “Because I’ll have you know this it not just an ordinary car.”

 

“I’m sure the car’s wonderful,” he said distractedly. Crowley, he was finding out, was also wonderful. There had to be some way he could show him his appreciation. Some method he hadn’t thought of yet. He wouldn’t leave this car until Crowley knew exactly what that act meant to him. “Crowley...” he started, thinking maybe he could try a verbal thank you again. Perhaps without using the words thank you. “Sorry, Anthony.” Still seemed strange saying that. Why did he have to keep changing his name anyway?

 

“It’s the name, isn’t it? Cause I lied about what the j stood for?” He hadn’t even noticed. He had been a little preoccupied at the time. “Needed a first name to blend in with the humans.”

 

Humans. They might just have the answers he had been looking for. There was no appropriate way in Heaven that he could ever possibly thank Crowley enough. But humans had evolved a whole system of thanking one another. He had heard rumors of certain favors being traded as a means of thanks. Favors he didn’t think Crowley would be opposed to. At least he hoped he wouldn’t. It wouldn’t mean anything, not really. It would just be a way for him to show Crowley his gratitude.

 

This part of town was quiet, no other cars on the road. Still, he didn’t want Crowley to be distracted while he was driving. He might hit something and ruin his new car. He didn’t think Crowley would appreciate it if something happened to the car, no matter how he felt about what had come before. Aziraphale couldn’t really think of any other way to approach the situation that would satisfy his requirements. He took a shaky breath to steady himself. If he was going to do this, he had better do it soon. At the speeds Crowley was traveling, they would be back at the shop in a blink of an eye.

 

“Crowley, dear.” He reached over to place his hand on Crowley’s thigh. “Can you pull over for a moment?” He had been expecting a protest, maybe Crowley would need a little bit of convincing. It would give him a few more seconds for him to screw up his courage. It was precisely because of that that Crowley obstinately pulled off the side of the road. The one time he wanted Crowley not to listen to him right away, Crowley figuratively jumped at the chance to obey him.

 

“Something wrong, angel?” Crowley asked once the car was stationary along the side of the road. “Is the car making you nauseous? You get used to the motion after a while.”

 

“Nothing like that,” he said, keeping his hand firmly on Crowley’s thigh, curling his fingers towards the inside of his leg. Suddenly, he couldn’t quite remember if he had ever even touched Crowley before. Certainly not in this manner. Neither of them caught on fire as he inched his hand further up Crowley’s thigh, his breath catching in his throat. He glanced out the window, making sure there was no one around. He didn’t need any one to witness this. By all rights, they both probably should have been struck down, but there was no one around. By all rights, they should have been struck down, but there was no divine or hellish retribution as he drifted his hand to cup Crowley through his pants.

 

“Aziraphale, what are you doing?” Crowley asked and Aziraphale thought he heard just a slight hitch in his breath even though technically they didn’t need to breathe. They didn’t need any of this.

 

“Just trying something,” he said which was technically true. He didn’t even know if Crowley was going to like this or even if he was going to be able to do it right. It wasn’t like these bodies came with instruction manuals. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Crowley’s face at the moment, so he continued to stare at the desolate city surrounding them.

 

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head or anything?” Crowley asked him. Crowley seemed frozen beside him, or at least most of him did. Other parts were definitely responding to his questing touches.

 

“I’m sure, Crowley,” he tried to assure him. Even though he still couldn’t bring himself to look at Crowley. “I’m at full mental capacity.” He was having a damned hard time working the fastening on Crowley’s pants blind and with one hand.

 

“Good, because the part of me that your hand is on is really interested in knowing where this is going.” He didn’t know if Crowley used a little demonic miracle again, or if he finally managed to succeed but his hand made contact with bare flesh. “Angel,” Crowley hissed lowly at him. At least he didn’t try to talk him out of it.

 

It was a wonder his nerve hadn’t left him yet. He kept his gaze fixed firmly out the passenger side window as he made a few fumbling attempts to get started. He would get the hang of it shortly, but he needed to think of something, anything else or he wouldn’t be able to go through with it. A new shipment of books that was supposed to be arriving by the end of the week. Or tax season. Lots of boring paperwork to be filled out.

 

Crowley took pity on his poor experimentation, because his hand covered his, closing his grip a little tighter and guiding him through the motions. He resisted the urge to thank him, unsure where any sort of verbalization might take them. Besides, he figured Crowley knew what he liked best, and wasn’t that the point? To show Crowley how grateful he was by making Crowley feel good? In a way he thought Crowley would be appreciative of?

 

He was suddenly very grateful for the heavy weight of the bag on his lap, the pressure giving him something to focus on. Something other than the demon sitting next to him and the absolutely lewd noises he was making. Crowley had released the grip on his hand, but he was pretty sure he had the gist of it by now. Crowley hissed beside him. If he didn’t know better, he would swear that Crowley was making those noises on purpose to distract him from his goal of disassociating.

 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley gasped beside him.

 

“Oh, you can think about whomever you want,” he said, looking over at Crowley. In fact, he quite encouraged it.

 

“Why would I do that?” Crowley asked, peering at him over the top of his glasses.

 

Because he didn’t want Crowley thinking about him; it would give weight to something that was supposed to have no meaning. Because he needed time to figure out what exactly was going on here. Because demons were incapable of love, but he couldn’t think of any other reason why Crowley would have saved the books for him. Surely Crowley had to have known how important they were to him. His other hand tightened his grip on the bag handle. Unless it had all been some sort of trick to spiral him into this whirlwind of confusion. He couldn’t say any of that to Crowley though, so he turned his gaze back out the window.

 

Crowley didn’t press the issue, so he didn’t have to try to explain himself any further. He didn’t have any explanations for any of it anyway. At least none that he thought Crowley would understand, especially when he couldn’t make sense of any of it himself. This was supposed to have been uncomplicated, and here they were mucking it all up. Crowley was the one who had set this whole thing into motion.

 

He stillcouldn’t bear to look at Crowley, so he settled on a fixed spot outside. He heard Crowley cut off a whimper and heard him grasping at something. He could almost picture those long fingers clutching deeply at the leather seat, and he had to swallow hard as he tried to clear his mind of that particular image. Or any of the mental images that were arising from what he was doing to Crowley. He could always look, replace his imagination with the actual imagery. But that would make it too real, too substantial. As far as his future self was concerned, this part of the evening had never happened. Crowley had given him a quick lift home, and that had been the end of that.

 

Crowley made another bizarre noise beside him like he was going to say something but thought better of it. Were humans this noisy as well or was Crowley just being over dramatic again? Best not to dwell on it. Crowley just seemed intent on making it impossible for him to forget what was happening. Crowley whimpered again, and he resisted the temptation to look. If something was wrong, Crowley would have told him to stop by now. He tended to be very vocal about that sort of thing. He bit his lower lip as he continued to stare out the window.

 

“Aziraphale...” Crowley whimpered from beside him. He almost turned around to correct him again, but Crowley wrapped his hand tightly around his and all thought went flying from his head until his whole world narrowed down to just him and Crowley and the car. And the books. He couldn’t forget about the books. Or the delightful little noises Crowley was making, the hitches in his breath. The way he twitched in his hand.

 

“Well, that was something,” Crowley said as Aziraphale withdrew his shaky hand to place it on top of the bag with his other. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. It was something, but he wasn’t sure exactly what. He was going to need time to work this all out later, but for now it was enough that Crowley had been well compensated for his time. Crowley’s breath was evening out beside him. Things could go on like normal, like none of this had ever happened.

 

He heard more than saw Crowley leaning over towards him. Crowley’s nose brushed lightly against his skin before Crowley closed the distance between them, kissing his jaw.

 

“No, Crowley,” he said, jerking away from him. He had to concentrate very hard to ignore his body’s other reaction to Crowley’s feather light touches. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

 

“Why not?” Crowley seemed undeterred, inching closer towards him. His nose brushed up again the sensitive skin of his earlobe. “After what you did for me, I figure the least I can do is return the favor.”

 

Aziraphale squirmed in his seat; Crowley was definitely doing something unnatural with his tongue and he was trying very hard not to think of what other things he could do.

 

“You already have,” he insisted, trying to get as far away as he could from Crowley’s questing mouth without actually getting out of the car.

 

“Alright,” Crowley said, clearing his throat, straightening back up and placing both hands firmly back on the steering wheel. “Where am I taking you again?” Crowley lurched the car violently back onto the street.

 

Somehow he couldn’t help but feel like he had made things worse between the two of them rather than better as he had hoped.


End file.
